


i began to understand why god died

by orphan_account



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 14:50:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4526238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>josh holds up a black box in his hand. his face is blank, expression unreadable.</p>
<p>tyler swallows nervously, tugs on the sleeve of his sweatshirt subconsciously, pulling it down past his palm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i began to understand why god died

**Author's Note:**

> vent writing because i've been sad  
> tw for self-harm but it's not graphic just lots of talk about scars and other stuff

“hey.”

tyler looks up from his pen and the papers spread across the table, blinking slowly at josh. “hi.”

josh holds up a black box in his hand. his face is blank, expression unreadable.

tyler swallows nervously, tugs on the sleeve of his sweatshirt subconsciously, pulling it down past his palm.

he wants to pretend like he doesn’t know what’s in that box, but he knows better than to act stupid. his eyes flicker over josh’s face, searching for something, reassurance, maybe, that josh doesn’t hate him for what he’s done again and again –

he finds nothing.

josh has pretty eyes. tyler loves those eyes. he could describe them in all of the ways those cheesy teenage romance novels wax poetic about looking into the eyes of someone you loved for hours on end; deep and soulful, crinkled at the edges with laughter lines. those laughter lines are tyler’s favorite because it means josh was ( _is_ ) happy.

his eyes are hollow. hauntingly beautiful, still, in the way they always are, but _empty_. there isn’t any reassurance lingering in the surface. there isn’t anything there.

josh’s brows draw together, resolve falling away at the seams, and there’s something in his eyes this time, plain as rain; hurt. pain. betrayal. sadness.

he puts the box on the kitchen table, and tyler can see everything that he once considered a form of comfort and now trying desperately to avoid coming to a front, staring him in the face. this time, there isn’t anywhere to run.

josh’s hand is gentle when he pulls at tyler’s wrist. tyler drops his pen, clattering to the surface of the table with a noise he can barely hear.

josh’s hand is gentle when he pushes up the sleeve of tyler’s sweatshirt. he is deathly silent as he looks at faded pink scars coupled with fresh red cuts littering the skin of his forearm.

there’s a lot of things tyler expects to come when people see his cuts and scars.

he expects anger, he expects screaming and yelling and fighting and blaming, throwing things and asking why, why, why, when he can’t answer, when he desperately wants to be normal, he doesn’t know why, he couldn’t tell anyone why if he tried –

what he doesn’t expect is, as josh crouches next to his legs, fingers twisted in the sleeve of his sweatshirt, a tiny, fluttering kiss pressed to the inside of his wrist.

he half thinks he’s imagined the sensation, but it’s there again, josh’s lips gentle against his marred skin.

he doesn’t know he’s crying until josh stands up, running his thumbs underneath his eyes to brush away wet tears.

josh doesn’t ask why. he kisses tyler’s forehead and tyler’s cheeks and tyler’s nose and slowly, softly, carefully, tyler’s lips. when he pulls back, the hurt on his face is masked with worry, but the reassurance tyler was searching for is there now.

“i love you,” josh says, and tyler believes him.

he wants to say it back, but he feels more exhausted than he has in months and his voice fails him, so he settles for kissing the bridge of josh’s nose, fingers moving to the underside of his jaw.

josh sighs, breath brushing against the lower half of tyler’s face. he rests his hands on tyler’s thighs, fingers skimming the surface comfortingly, and he feels like he’s on the brink of tears, chest tightening painfully; he knows the signs of tyler’s depression, he knows, he knows, he knows, but he didn’t realize in time and he was too late this time.

the logical part of his mind says that it isn’t either of their fault. the emotional part is focused on what those cuts and scars looked like on tyler’s skin, and it blames him for not being there, for not noticing.

“i love you so much,” josh mumbles, voice so quiet tyler barely hears him. he presses another kiss to the tip of josh’s nose as a form of comfort, in place of words he can’t say because his throat is too tight, voice catching awkwardly as he tries to explain the trapdoor of his mind.

tyler’s hand finds josh’s on his thigh, and he laces their fingers together. josh squeezes minutely, brushing his nose against tyler’s before standing, pulling him along with him.

he pulls tyler to the bathroom of their bedroom, pushing him down against the counter as he leans over the tub, working with the tap until he finds a suitable temperature.

“here, take your clothes off,” josh says, running water over his hand, and tyler snorts, looking at him with a half-bemused expression. josh rolls his eyes. “not like that. get in the bath.”

tyler strips off his shirt, watching josh carefully as he leans over the edge of the bathtub, staring almost dreamily at the surface of the water. he hesitates, catching a glance at the cuts on his wrist – his gaze shoots skyward regretfully as he tugs off his jeans and underwear in one go, floundering into the warmth of the water as soon as the cold air hits his skin.

water splashes up and over the edge of the tub. josh glares at him from where he’s currently standing shirtless, hopping around on one foot as he struggles to get his jeans off of his hips, and tyler grins lovingly up at him. his eyes dip lower when josh is distracted with taking his socks off, and he glances up, meeting tyler’s eyes; a tiny bit of pink paints across his cheeks, huffing as he hurries to get into the water, tyler laughing.

“i swear, it’s like you’ve never seen me naked before,” josh quips, but his eyes shine, throwing a leg over the tub as he eases himself in.

“can’t help it. you’re pretty and you’re mine. it’s great,” tyler replies, hands sliding around josh’s hips as he settles into the water between tyler’s legs, hissing at the heat.

“yours,” josh agrees, humming as he relaxes back against tyler’s chest, head tucked into his shoulder. tyler’s hands move from his hips to around his waist, skimming his skin as he eases small circles into the areas he touches, eyes slipping closed.

josh reaches out a hand, catching tyler’s fingers; tyler grins, dipping his head forward to nuzzle carefully into josh’s hair, heart beating quicker as josh carefully brushes against his cuts.

“i’m so in love with you,” josh sighs, fingers tightening briefly against tyler’s.

tyler rushes to change the point of conversation. “can i wash your hair?”

he’s already grabbing a bottle off of the side of the tub, pushing josh up into a sitting position. josh hears the click of the bottle uncapping, relaxing his shoulders as tyler’s fingers slide against his scalp carefully. he knows it’s the worst topic to speak about at the moment, but it needs to be addressed; tyler pulls slightly as he massages his hair between his fingers, and his thoughts slip for the time being, focused on the feeling of fingers in his hair.

tyler looks at the faded red, soapy mess underneath his hands, giggling softly. “we need to dye your hair,” he says as he works his fingers carefully, bending forward to press a kiss to josh’s shoulder blade.

“yeah? what color?”

“i like you in purple,” tyler decides, running his hands through josh’s hair once more before dropping them into the water, watching the muscles contort underneath josh’s skin as he grabs a cup off of the side of the tub, handing it to tyler.

“i’ll pick up dye tomorrow,” josh replies, head tilting back as water pours over his scalp, eyes closing inherently as soap rushes over his face and back.

tyler works carefully, quietly, until every trace of soap is gone from the soaking mess of josh’s still-fading red hair, coupled with overgrown brown roots.

josh brushes water off of his face and out of his eyes with the palms of his hands, leaning back against tyler’s chest. he breathes in the steam and the lilac, flowery scent of the shampoo they both share, grabbing the hand that tyler has snaked around his waist. he traces his fingers along the freckles of the back of his hand, eyes moving down to look at small, paper-thin and pale, faded white scars on the outside of his wrist.

tyler has never liked anyone knowing about his tendencies to self-harm. the feeling of josh’s eyes on his wrist makes his stomach squirm uncertainly under his careful scrutiny; he pushes away the urge to hide his wrist in the water, holding his hand still as josh continues tracing his fingers over the back.

he doesn’t have anything to hide around josh. everything about the situation is touching uncomfortably close to home in the crumbling empire of his chest and mind; he breathes in a little heavier, trying to quell the rocking guilt inside of his stomach, head moving backwards to rest against the wall of the bathtub.

“i love you,” josh says, quietly, as he so often does.

“i love you, too,” tyler replies, as he always does in return.

his fingers tighten around josh’s. he’s never good with expressing himself outside of the lyrics scribbled into notebooks at three am on a peal of wakefulness or on the backs of receipts as he’s putting away groceries in his kitchen, whatever he has in his hands the moment inspiration strikes; words have tendencies to fail him otherwise, so he relies heavily on his actions, which josh understands.

he wipes away the few stray tears that have collected underneath his eyes with his unoccupied hand before josh realizes and asks questions.

the boy’s done enough for him already. he doesn’t want to burden his anxious mind further.

the lull of the water cascades over his scarred thighs as he listens to josh breathe against his chest, focused on the look of josh’s fingers twined through his.

it hits tyler a lot what love feels like. he’s been surrounded by the emotion a lot, growing up, with the strong connections he has with his family, but his love for josh is different to the love he holds for his family.

his love for josh is explained in the simple things. twined hands as they walk or sit or talk or laugh or cry, legs tangled together under blankets on couches or beds, crushing themselves into a crushed bunk together to sleep off the exhaustion touring brings, josh’s fingers running over his scars, happy smiles that bring crinkles to the edges of his eyes, casual ‘i love you’s over every little thing.

his love for josh is understanding walking the fine line between living for someone and dying for someone. there’s a million different ways to say that he’d die for someone in some act of selfless bravado, nailing the crown of a _hero_ on top of his head for the rest of civilization’s eternity.

there’s only a few ways to say that he’d live for someone, and josh is almost – if not the entirety – of them all.

living for someone, and his love for josh, is understanding that he wasn’t supposed to die at nineteen when he tied a noose on his bedroom floor with tears in his eyes. he put that noose around his neck and he’s thankful that his hands are clumsy, because when he took the plunge from the ceiling fan he’d chosen to hang himself from, his noose broke just as he was realizing that he really wasn’t supposed to die right there.

he was supposed to live because he was supposed to meet josh a year later and he was supposed to fall hopelessly, desperately in love with that boy who smiled like the sun itself.

tyler brushes tears from his cheeks again and he leans forward to press a kiss to josh’s damp hair. “i’m really glad i met you,” he whispers, voice shot.

josh twists himself around to wrap his arms around tyler’s shoulders, holding him quietly as he allows himself to cry tears he’d been holding back for months on end.

“let’s get you dried off,” josh mumbles, hands on tyler’s wrist as he helps pull him to his feet and out of the bathtub. his knees shake slightly and he’s barely able to keep himself standing; he avoids josh’s eyes, afraid of what emotions he’ll see there, as he presses a towel into his hands. “are you okay?”

tyler shakes his head because he’s tired of lying. he’s really not okay. he hasn’t been for a while.

he wraps the towel around his shoulders, giving josh a teary smile. “thank you,” he sighs, tugging the towel up higher around his neck, fingers shaking slightly.

“you’re welcome,” josh muses, stepping closer to take the ends of the towel in his hands. he carefully dries tyler off by himself, humming quietly as he works around his boyfriend’s quivering frame until he’s completely dried. “head on to bed. i’ll be there in a minute.”

tyler departs to their room without a word.

he sits down on the edge of their bed and stares out the window at a dark sky.

it’s not _theirs_ , really. it’s josh’s apartment, truthfully, but tyler lives there oftentimes when they take breaks from the exhaustion of touring before they head to their hometown to be with their families. josh loves having his best friend next to him every waking second of the day, always within arm’s reach.

josh finds tyler stuck in the same position, legs curled underneath him as he looks out the window, lost in his own head. he digs through his drawers, back glistening with small droplets of water because he can never get all the way dry, even if tyler hates him for it – he pulls on a pair of boxers and throws an extra pair to tyler.

they land in his lap and he looks down at them as if he’s surprised, but he pulls them on anyways. he stands up, opening his arms to tuck josh into his embrace when he approaches him, hands sliding against his water-slick back.

he wrinkles his nose in distaste, but he says nothing, kissing the side of his head carefully. “thank you,” he breaks the still quietness surrounding the room, even if he doesn’t really have a reason in mind.

josh doesn’t understand, but he smoothes a hand over tyler’s hip and he nods gently. “come on. you’re tired.”

they curl up in the middle of josh’s bed, tucked carefully underneath a blanket, gazing at each other sleepily in the dark, mapping out the outlines of what they can see.

“i love you,” josh says once, his hand on tyler’s cheek as he traces his cheekbone.

tyler never tires of hearing those words out of his mouth. “i love you, too.”

his love for josh is explained in the simple things, like falling asleep wrapped around each other, content with the state of their existence.

 

+

 

tyler holds his box in two hands.

usually, he feels something. it’s a sort of tugging behind his ribcage next to his heart, interlocked in the inner workings of his insides that calls to him, tells him that he’s in control, now. he can resolve the situation with the silver of a blade held between shaking fingertips, he can fix everything with a flick of his wrist as he drags the metal across his skin, the feeling of emptiness strangely absolving from his chest for a short time as his blood rushes to the surface.

he knows that self harm does nothing to help. he’s done it for too long, far too often, to actually believe he can help his condition with cutting. it doesn’t help, but it gets rid of the hollowness in his chest cavity, the emptiness in his mind. he desperately wants to feel _something_ other than the impenetrable sadness.

josh shuffles next to him, glancing curiously at the box before up at tyler’s face. carefully, he winds his arm around tyler’s waist, fingers pressing softly into his skin, comfortingly. on the outside, it doesn’t look like much, but tyler’s heart stutters and his eyes slip closed, a gesture that is pure and small, but speaks volumes – _i’m here. you’ll be okay. we’ll get through this together._

_you’re not alone_.

tyler isn’t alone. he never really was. josh’s hand moves against his skin faintly as he waits, other shoved deep into his pocket as he thinks.

tyler focuses on his face, and josh focuses on his, a tiny, cautious smile gracing his lips fleetingly.

the feeling of sadness flutters and disappears for the time being as tyler looks into josh’s eyes. he tears his gaze away, back to the box that holds his razors, carefully packed away.

“josh, i love you,” tyler croaks as he hovers the box over the trashcan.

“i love you, too, honey,” josh responds, voice careful and quiet, hand tightening over tyler’s hip. “it’s okay. you’re okay.”

tyler sobs as his fingers release, the air between his hands suddenly thick and empty. josh wraps him up in a hug, ignoring the wetness that spreads across his collar from tyler’s tears as he tucks his head underneath josh’s chin.

it’s a stiff, awkward angle, because tyler is a few inches taller and his spine isn’t built to be bent into the angle it’s in at the moment, but he winds his arms around josh’s chest and cries into his the crook of his shoulder.

“i’m proud of you,” josh whispers, burying his nose in tyler’s hair. “so, so proud.”

it isn’t everything, but it’s a start.


End file.
